


Discworld oneshots and scraps

by FoggedFantasy



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crack, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Out of Character, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-07 14:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 77
Words: 18,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16410095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoggedFantasy/pseuds/FoggedFantasy
Summary: This is just a collection of oneshots and poems based on roleplays between me and @Onlytrashliveshere with Terry Pratchett's characters. These characters have been changed through our roleplays, and thus they may not be accurate. I also haven't been through all the books, so keep in mind that these are playful. OC inserts are sparing, but there are a few.





	1. Drumknott/Reacher: Falling for the enemy

It was with a slow and steady pace that Reacher Gilt gained the trust of the Patrician’s secretary. Initially it was a power move, but the more he hung around the man, the more irresistible charms he found within. And with time, he found himself revelling in each smile he could provoke from the other’s lips.

So he didn’t mind moving at a snail’s pace. He was with Drumknott, afterall. Sure, he had business to attend to, tearing him away from his favorite time passer occasionally (or more than occasionally, the clacks were quite the commitment), but he had all the time in the world at the end of the day. Besides, having a slow burning love sounded nice. He wanted it to grow, to build, with Drumknott.

He’ll never forget the first time he got to watch the other wake up. Laid in front of him, Reacher had convinced the man to sleep in his bed as he’d been “too drunk to walk home”. And honestly, it was a memory he cherished. Sleepy eyes blinking awake, greeting the world with a sort of lazy, lost, listlessness, and it warmed his heart for some reason. He gently brushed the hair out of Drumknott’s eyes, looking into them as the man refamiliarized himself with the world.


	2. Drumknott/Reacher: Poem- Cherishing fantasies

Gentle kisses

Starting on the back of his hand

Moving to his cheek

Moving to his lips

He’s soft, fragile

He should be protected from the tyranny of this world

But instead he lies within the lion’s den

Returning there for the life-granting security

Returning there because he can’t stay with Reacher

As much as both of them would wish

So Reacher cherishes those kisses

Remembers the lips

The ghost his own in his fantasies

He is ever so soft even within these dreams

And Reacher can’t get enough


	3. Drumknott poem based on "Bulletproof"

Drumknott had been too soft for awhile  
So he raised his walls  
Became impenetrable  
He wouldn’t be swept away into lies again  
He’d block the desperate messages  
They’d only hold lies anyways  
If this will happen  
He’ll make it a game, match how he was toyed with  
Maybe he’d make him think he’d stay  
That he could be convinced  
So that he could yank it all away once he had trust in him  
So he could take himself away  
Like Havelock had removed himself from Drumknott  
This was the end  
And he’d make himself impenetrable


	4. Drumknott/Reacher: Songfic (Pity Party)

Drumknott looked at the boy in front of him, not expecting him.

“Reacher Gilt, was it?”

The boy smiled. “Rufus Drumknott, happy birthday!” He offered the present.

Drumknott blushed. “Thank you,” he took it. “Come in,” he urged, stepping inside. He set it where the presents should go obediently, making the lonely pile three. But that wasn’t what he was worried about right now. He took the boy’s hand, sitting him by his place. 

“I didn’t expect you to come,” he said with a smile. “But, thanks for showing up,” he said softly.

“Of course! I heard that Havelock Vetinari had to cancel, and so I figured I’d show up.” He smiled. 

“Um, well, it’s good to have you here.” It was good to have someone here. 

He served the cake, making a new friendship.


	5. Havelock/Moist- Danger (slight NSFW)

Havelock watched, his eyes narrowing as the man in front of him shivered. He found himself enjoying playing with Moist like this. The other man was… entertaining in all aspects, he supposed. His lips grazed over the exposed flesh that his collar didn’t quite cover, and he stabbed the knife between Moist’s fingers again, making him gasp. Havelock would’ve laughed if it didn’t ruin the mood. He pressed his teeth against his neck, nipping ever so gently, which made Moist moan as he let out some pent up anticipation. The man was all his to toy with, “trusting” him, or, well, moreso submitting to him. Havelock didn’t mind for now. If Moist proved interesting like he had been so far, he could work on the trust later. This was enough for now.


	6. Havelock/Moist: Feelings

It was strange. How they both didn’t believe the other could catch feelings, yet they found each other with feelings for the other. 

It was strange, how Havelock craved his presence. Initially he believed himself weak, to be so attached to another. After all, this wasn’t like his first love. This… this was a stronger feeling, a desperate need to have Moist. There was a reason he’d hung him to a half inch of his life besides the post office. He needed to claim Moist, to be the only angel for him. 

It was strange, how Moist could begin to trust him. It was a new life, they both reminded him. It was a new story, and maybe… well, maybe they could build a better one than scamming the world. Maybe he didn’t have to try and climb to power and glory through crimes and scams. Maybe… maybe he could do it by being Moist von Lipwig. And maybe he’d have someone he loved and who loved him who would support him.

It felt like a dream though. To both of them. There were nights where Havelock lay awake, staring at his ceiling as he tried to piece together what had happened, where he caught feelings, and, well, how he  _ felt _ about those feelings. There were nights where Moist would lay awake, staring at the ground as he tried not to hyperventilate, realizing he was trapped down with the man who’d tried to kill him. Trapped down with the man who was so deliciously dangerous, but… no. He wasn’t trapped. He was  _ addicted _ . And late at night, that was even more terrifying. There were other nights where Moist would look out at the stars with a wide grin, imagining Havelock in his bed, how he’d look asleep, whether he’d be peaceful or not. Those were the nights where he couldn’t believe that he could be tied to the Patrician. Where he couldn’t believe that his confession had worked. And those nights, sometimes he’d be too giddy to sleep. He never expected he’d settle down with someone who could keep him stimulated, and keep controlled danger in his life. He never expected he’d settle down with someone in general.

Yet here he was, and he was grateful for it.


	7. Moist/Havelock: Sun/Moon poem

Moist was the sun

Bright, fun, blinding

He rose throughout the day, flourishing with the people

He brought smiles as he entertained naturally

He was the skip in the step of a man down on his luck

But sometimes he was too high up and he needed to be grounded

Havelock was Moist’s moon

He hid him as the man took time to recover and put away his bag of tricks

He was there to protect Moist

And hide him as he composed himself once more

He was the blackness

He drained the room, yet commanded all attention as he smothered out the light

But Moist couldn’t complain about a break, and Havelock couldn’t bring himself to destroy the other

So they worked out just fine

As balances and breaks and fascinating exchanges

Between one another


	8. Ever since Samuel/Havelock/Moist/Rufus/Reacher was a little kid...

Ever since Samuel Vimes was a little kid he wanted to be the knight in shining armor. He’d always wanted to be the savior to something precious, and be tasked with keeping it safe and happy. He succeeded in guarding Havelock Vetinari, perhaps the man most precious of all.

Ever since Havelock Vetinari was a little kid he wanted to be the ruler of the world. He wanted to exhibit his endless power over the common people, shaping the way their lives flowed and making it as he saw fit. He at the time believed he would do endless good, but the more he grew up the more he realized how much neutrality and balance were important.

Ever since Moist von Lipwig was a little kid he wanted to be a star. Initially he’d tried to do that through riches and impressive feats of trickery, though with Havelock’s ruling he’d quickly made himself an icon instead. He loved the feeling of eyes on him, seeing what he presented but nothing more. It gave him a rush.

Ever since Rufus Drumknott was a little kid he wanted to be a part of something big. He never expected himself to be the big thing, he was a small, timid kid. But he wanted to be there to help the person that was. He found an easy way to put to use his organizational skills as he helped the most important man in Ankh-Morpork.

Ever since Reacher Gilt was a kid he wanted to have an empire. He wanted a display of power so undeniably his that he would be praised daily for his endeavor. He wanted to be an integral part of people’s lives, similar to Havelock in a way. He glowed in the prime of the clacks, though his greed began to prove his downfall.

  
  



	9. Samuel/Moist/Havelock: Jolene songfic

Samuel was terrified when he heard about Moist. He had no right to be. No right at all. He had a loving wife, who he in turn loved, but… but that didn’t mean he didn’t love the Patrician too. And yes, maybe it was selfish, but he was allowed to be selfish in his own damn head!

Anyways, the newcome government official terrified Samuel. He was bright, witty, charming. He was someone who could keep the Patrician entertained, and one who was an intellectual equal. And even if Samuel knew he wasn’t that equal, he was smart enough to realize that Moist was.

In short, he knew he couldn’t compete. He knew that the Patrician may as well discard him as a companion… but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it to happen. Damn that Moist for being such a charismatic fucker. He could even make Samuel smile and laugh and want to agree with him… that is, until he figured he was out to steal… no. The Patrician wasn’t his. And he had a wife.

_ But he’d grown to love Havelock too _ .

The notion really struck a chord with him. It only emphasized all that he would lose. Those little smiles, that warmth. He looked down as the Patrician and the Postmaster spoke, and nearly sneered as the Postmaster asked his input. He didn’t mean it. It was a stupid formality. “That sounds fine,” he found himself saying, though.

_ But Havelock had noticed _ . 

“Commander?” The silky baritone asked, and he tried to ignore how his heart clenched. He gritted his teeth. Sybil. Sybil would help. He just had to make it through the rest of the day.

“Is something wrong?” The man pressed.

Samuel shook his head, not trusting words, though Moist was beginning to pick up on everything as well.

“Do you two need a moment?”

“On the contrary,” Havelock said. “I believe we _three_ need a moment.”  
Samuel’s blood went cold.


	10. Drumknott/Reacher: I don't need you to be mine

“I don’t need you to be mine,” Reacher said, looking in Drumknott’s eyes. “That’s the beauty in it. I don’t need to control you- and I don’t want to. I just… I want you to be here with me,” Reacher confessed, his cheeks warming at the last part.

Drumknott looked at the man in front of him with warm cheeks. “You just want me to be here with you?” He confirmed, believing it had to be a trick. That was so simple, after all.

“Well, maybe that and talk for now… hopefully, well,” Reacher blushed. “I would be interested if more were to come later,” he smiled.

  
  



	11. Drumknott/Reacher: "There’s beauty in not needing to change people. It means that you’ve found someone that you like enough to not need to change them"

“Have you ever wanted to… to change yourself?” Drumknott asked, his leg beginning to bounce with nerves.

“Change?” Reacher asked, looking over. “Well, I think everybody wants to change themselves sometimes… but the motivations for doing so are important,” he murmured, looking at Drumknott as though he were the only thing in the world. 

That was one of Drumknott’s favorite things about Reacher. He gave him his full attention, and, even better, it wasn’t intimidating to have it. He put a hand on his chin thoughtfully, his finger digging a pattern into the wood as it did occasionally.

Reacher always thought it was cute when he did that.

“Have you been wanting to change, Drumknott?” Reacher asked.

Drumknott hesitated, avoiding eye contact. “I suppose I’ve been thinking about it,” he said softly.

“Why?” Reacher asked.

Drumknott sighed, frowning a little bit. “It’s just, lately Havelock’s been so carried away with the new transfer student… and, well, it’s hard to lose a friend,” not to mention a crush. Havelock had been there with Drumknott through everything. They had history, and… well, that mattered to Drumknott, even if it didn’t matter as much to Havelock.

“I see… so you want to change for Havelock?” Reacher clarified.

“Not for him… I want to change so that he’ll pay me more attention,” Drumknott explained. He missed the attention, even if Havelock only rarely gave Drumknott his full attention.

“Mm…” Reacher hummed. “That’s… that’s understandable, but… I think you should consider the fact that there’s beauty in not needing to change people. It means that you’ve found someone that you like enough to not need to change them… And, maybe if he’s not paying you attention it’s not meant to be. After all, if you really care about someone, and you really are good for someone, you shouldn’t need to have to change them, and they shouldn’t need to have to change you. And you should make time for each other too… And sure, people change as they know people, but they grow… At their own rates… I don’t know… I suppose that might not help, but I don’t think you should force things, Drumknott… and for one thing,” Reacher finally caught the other’s eyes. “I don’t think you should change.”

Drumknott looked in his eyes for a few more moments, nodding quietly as he looked down. “I suppose you’re right… I guess I’ll have to just hope he’ll make the time for me again,” Drumknott said softly, frowning again.

Reacher sighed softly, hating to see Drumknott like that. “In the meantime, you have me, okay? Hell, you have me whenever you need,” Reacher chuckled softly, looking at Drumknott.

Drumknott gazed back at him, nodding softly. A small smile sprouted on his cheeks. “Thanks, Reacher.”

 


	12. Samuel/Moist/Havelock/Sybil- Mr. Jones and Me songfic

Samuel leaned against Carrot, grinning as he looked around at all the beautiful people around him. The guitar was playing, people danced, perhaps the most talented being a newcomer, from what he could only guess was Whales. That didn’t matter, though, he was charming, attracting a crowd as his body swayed to the captivating music.

Across the bar was another man, enshrouded in black, though his skin was pale, presenting a stark contrast. Even his hair was raven. Occasionally he’d glance over to the pair at the bar, occasionally he’d glance to the dancer. Something about him commanded the best behavior in people, Samuel could just tell. Whenever he’d look over even Samuel would straighten himself.

And at the end of the bar was a beautiful woman. She wasn’t thin by any means, but Samuel could tell she was strong, and hearing her laugh at the bar tender’s jokes filled his soul with music to the tune of her melody. He yearned to meet her, but she had never looked his way, until around the end of the night when their eyes locked. They froze like that for a moment, Carrot witnessing all of it, before Samuel flushed and grinned, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he looked away, though not a second passed before he looked back to her. 

That night was the start of something. Something that Samuel had never thought he’d ever known, something so filled with love that it made his heart warm just to think about it. Something so good he’d think only the saints were worthy. And who could blame him for being addicted to the three he’d met at the bar that day?


	13. Moist: "Who do I need to be?"

“I can change,” Moist pleaded.  
“I know you can. You can change into everything… but that’s why I’m leaving. Because in doing that, you’ve made yourself nobody, and I can’t handle not knowing the person I’m dating anymore.”

“I can change into something else! Something constant!”

“You don’t get it. Goodbye, Moist.” The door slammed, and Moist swore time froze, the footsteps away from him echoing in his ears. How… how could this not have been solved by changing who he was? That always… it always had worked.


	14. Samuel/Moist: "One School" songfic

Samuel looked at the man with pity in his eyes. He was only what Samuel made him, but that was the problem. He was only what people made him. And people could make him into a criminal… so he had to be locked up. It was just a shame he was sitting outside his office. He had to pass by the man he betrayed every day.

One day, passing by, Moist spoke up. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I met you,” he said, leaning against the bars subconsciously as he looked at Samuel. Samuel blushed.

“I’m much older than you.”

“I always liked how mature you were.”

‘Moist… you’re a danger to society. I can’t let you go.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t you.”

“But you are not run by your own judgment. You’re run by the personas you play, and you can be molded into a criminal. So I can’t let you go. Consider this a lesson. There are consequences, even when playing a role that’s not your own.”

Moist looked at him quietly. “Did you want me in this jail cell?”

“No. I wish you didn’t make the choice that you did.” He said.

“I wish you didn’t tempt me.”

“You don’t understand. I hope you do before we let you out.” Samuel said finally.


	15. Rufus/Drumknott: "It only takes a taste" Song-inspired poem

It only took one conversation for Rufus to realize he needed someone like Reacher in his life, if not the man in front of him himself. He quickly grew addicted to the man and his words, and how happy he made him.


	16. Samuel/Havelock: “It doesn’t do any good to get worked up.”

_ “It doesn’t do any good to get worked up,”  _ Havelock said, staring at the wall blankly.

Samuel looked at him helplessly. He didn’t know what else to do in this situation. All his life he had barked, he had moved, he had fought. He wasn’t used to being trapped. He wasn’t comfortable with it. And it  _ hurt _ that he would be killed for a crimeless life.

“Come, sit,” Havelock beckoned him, patting the bench beside him. It was hard, held up by chains to the wall. Samuel didn’t want to sit there. It was a prisoner’s bench. But he couldn’t deny the former Patrician, so down he sat.

“I’m sorry,” Havelock said softly. None of the other guardsmen were here on death row with him. Just his terrier. 

Moist wasn’t here either. 

But neither of them blamed him. Neither of them would want him to die. He would have died for nothing, after all. And they couldn’t blame him for not being loyal to the death. 

That was a trait specific to Samuel.

“For what?” Samuel asked like he didn’t know. Havelock scoffed.

“You know what.” The ex-Patrician’s hands were around one of his as it rubbed it, massaging the calloused palm. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Samuel echoed, earnestly.

Havelock shook his head. “This was on me.”

“But-”

“Samuel,” he met his eyes. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” He pleaded.

Samuel looked at him. “Okay… I forgive you… I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you too,” Havelock smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Samuel’s lips. 

They both heard the guards come, and Death stood by, ready for his next two souls. It was the way it was meant to be. They looked into each others eyes, squeezed each others hands, and smiled.

“Until we meet again,” Samuel smiled.

“And may we, under whichever God will take us,” Havelock added.


	17. Moist- Lost

Moist had never been lost in someone’s eyes, and it terrified him. But so did all of love. He wasn’t used to connections. He wasn’t used to warmth and protection. He was used to being hunted. And being hunted was what he knew.

But when his love squeezed his hand, he sighed. Maybe he could learn how to connect, how to stay instead of run. And maybe the pay off would be worth it.


	18. Drumknott/Reacher: "In my next life I want to come back as a butterfly"

_ “In my next life, I want to come back as a butterfly.” _

Of course someone like Drumknott would. Reacher smiled at the thought. “I bet you’d be beautiful,” he said, his voice full of admiration.

He only hoped he could be a butterfly with him, and that they could meet again and love again.


	19. Havelock/Moist: "You First"

_ “You first.” _

Of course Moist wanted Havelock to go first. He wasn’t surprised. That being said, it didn’t matter. After all, only a bad leader would have his subjects do what he wouldn’t. 

So he hopped down, slinking onto the horse’s back. Moist followed, hopping on behind him. Havelock smirked. He didn’t mind the testosterone boost at all. He never did.

And with that, they began their ride back. Of course, as they approached the gate a guard came out. 

Havelock could feel Moist tense behind him. So he did what any logical assassin would and pulled out a sword, decapitating him as he rode past. Or… mostly decapitating him. Either way, he wouldn’t be getting up to stop them.

Moist winced at that, burying his head in Havelock’s back as he took a shaky breath. He didn’t like to see death, honestly.

Havelock rode on, going as fast as the horse would to get back to their palace. If Samuel knew that what Havelock had insisted would be a peaceful venture had gone like this, he was sure he’d have a cow. So…

“Don’t tell Samuel,” he ordered Moist.

Moist nodded.


	20. Drumknott/Havelock: “When was the last time we had a real conversation?”

_ “When was the last time we had a real conversation?” _   Drumknott asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Havelock looked over.

“I mean a  _ real _ conversation. One that isn’t a stupid ‘how’s your day’ ‘what are you working on’ ‘that’s nice’. One that isn’t just uninspired garble. One that  _ means _ something.”

Havelock paled. “I, uh, don’t know…” It had surely been awhile, and honestly, part of that was because Havelock just didn’t care enough. He didn’t mind keeping ideas trapped in his head, and he felt no real need to talk through them with Drumknott so long as the man still followed him around and did his work like a lost puppy desperate for approval.

“I don’t either,” Drumknott responded, and Havelock knew he was sad. He knew that… but he didn’t know what to do about it, or if it was worth doing anything even. 

Drumknott waited a few moments, testing Havelock, before he finally gave up. “Okay then… I guess I’ll see you later,” he rubbed the back of his neck, sighing as he turned to leave the room.

Havelock knew it was a mistake not to follow him. He just didn’t know how big of one it was. Because now Drumknott had lost his spark of neediness with his hope in actually being someone to Havelock, and Havelock wasn’t getting that back.


	21. Lady Margolotta/Adora Belle Dearheart: Hot

Margolotta couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen a woman so undeniably  _ perfect _ . She had thin lips in a nearly permanent scowl, though they puckered as she released a cloud of smoke as though it had scorned her family. She had deathly heels as murder weapons, and a strength about her that meant she would never be broken.

And when she aimed her crossbow at her, she wouldn’t deny it made her hot. 


	22. Samuel/Havelock: "Nothing's that important, you know."

_ "Nothing's  _ **_that_ ** _ important, you know,” _ Havelock said quietly.

Samuel narrowed his eyes. He didn’t  _ like _ to be angry at Havelock. He wanted to protect him, but… how could he just say that?

“Family is,” Samuel said gruffly, thinking of Young Sam, Sybil, Moist, and… and Havelock too.

Havelock looked at him with raised eyebrows, realizing Samuel had interpreted him wrong. “No, I mean nothing’s important enough to risk leaving your son without you,” Havelock said softly.

Samuel went quiet, the anger immediately dissipating. “Oh… But… but it’s my job to protect you.”

Havelock cupped his face gently. He loved this man too much, he figured. And his son too. “I know that, and it is, but Samuel… If it’s my head on the line or yours and there’s no way out…  _ save your head _ . Ankh-Morpork will find another ruler, but your son only has one dad.”

Samuel looked at him in shock. “Havelock?” He furrowed his brow. Was he sick? It was his job! This… this had never been expressed to him beore either!

“Promise me, Samuel.”

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” He asked.

Havelock laughed. “I’m not,” he gently pressed the back of Samuel’s hand to his forehead. “See?”

Samuel softened, looking at him hesitantly.

_ “Promise,” _ Havelock urged.

Samuel took a breath. “I promise,” he said quietly.


	23. Margolotta/Adora Belle Dearheart: Vampirism (Slightly NSFW)

She moaned at the smell of Adora's perfume, nuzzling against her neck. She hesitantly pressed a few kisses, feeling her body tense with the anticipation of  feeding, which only strengthened with the sexual tension in the room. Adora tilted her head, knowing she was only tantalizing her girlfriend more. She'd allow a few more seconds as she prepared the bag of blood that she'd been warming between her breasts. As Margolotta's pupils contracted with her animalistic need, Adora pulled it out, putting it in front of her nose. "Bite," she ordered, no nonsense or fear in her voice. And with how much she'd teased Margolotta, well, any of it would be dangerous.

Margolotta bit down into the bag, piercing the plastic before she started sucking, closing her eyes and moaning in pleasure as she fed, feeling her strength grow, though she was still a needy wreck.

 


	24. Margolotta/Adora Belle Dearheart: Blood(Slightly NSFW)

Margolotta watched her, well,  _ Master _ might be a strong word (even if it did fit), so… her girlfriend. Today was the day where they would go get Margo’s blood supply for the week, and though she was strong enough not to need blood for every meal, or even every day, having it made her feel powerful. And ever since she’d turned, it was the best-tasting, not to mention the thing she craved strongest.

Adora scanned the courtyard, focusing on the shade of the trees. Even if Margo was fine in the sun for a little while, and could last longer under her sun parasol, she didn’t enjoy it. So oftentimes on sunny days she used the sun parasol and whatever shade she could find. And, since Adora knew where to look, it didn’t take long. Adora chuckled to herself. There her little vampire girlfriend was waiting at the nearest tree with keen interest. She couldn’t be more obvious.

The thought made Adora smile warmly. Margo had no idea what was coming, either. Since she had been such a good girl this week, Adora decided she’d give her a little treat in the blood pickings. She was even considering human, and, well, knowing Margolotta’s charms she’d likely find herself convinced to splurge on her irresistible girlfriend. 

And knowing Margolotta, she wouldn’t find herself regretting it anyway.


	25. Moist/Samuel: "I don't want life to be a fairytale"

"I don't want life to be a fairytale,” Samuel said gruffly as he looked at Moist.

Moist blinked, furrowing his brow. “Why not?” Things were perfect in fairytales. Everybody was happy.

“Because… I want the truth, the cold hard reality. I want to learn to love your imperfections, Moist. I don’t want you to hide them from me.”

Moist froze, getting nervous. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do.”

“You’ll regret it,” Moist said quickly.

Samuel shook his head. “I want the true you, imperfections and all. I don’t want to see a mask of you.”

Moist pressed his lips together, his heart racing. “I… I don’t know.”

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Samuel asked.

Moist wanted to put up a character, to drag a mask on and say it was okay, but… but he wanted Samuel to be pleased with him- and to be happy with him too. If he couldn’t do it, then he should at least let Samuel know why, right?

“The thought is terrifying for someone like me,” Moist said finally. “Hell, I get scared of people recognizing me… I… Well, I don’t think anyone has seen the true me yet…” Not even himself. “It… something like that isn’t easy for me.”

“I can be patient if you’re willing to try,” Samuel said, determined and stubborn.

Moist blinked, taking a breath. He was trapped, wasn’t he? “It may take years.”

“That’s fine… I want to stay by your side, but I want you to be yourself with me, even if it takes years.” Samuel replied.

Moist felt his cheeks warm. Oh jeez. “You might not like all of me, though… what if you only like the mask?”

“Moist, I told you I liked authenticity best… Even without the mask you’re a charming man, you being real isn’t going to change my feelings for you…” Samuel softened. “I’ll still be here, okay?”

Moist locked eyes with him. “Okay…” he conceded. “I’ll try then, if you really feel that way.”

Samuel grinned, looking at Moist like he was his world. “Thank you so much,” he pressed a kiss to the other man’s lips happily.

Moist giggled, kissing him happily. At least it made Samuel happy.


	26. Samuel/Havelock: "I miss moments like this more than anything."

“Do you miss spending time with me?” Samuel asked softly, curled in the Patrician’s arms. Lately, well, with Sybil being pregnant and Havelock spending more time in Uberwald with Margolotta (although that was to appease Havelock’s loneliness, not that Samuel knew), the pair hadn’t gotten much time together.

_ "I miss moments like this more than anything,”  _ Havelock murmured, combing his fingers through the watchman’s hair. “Do you miss this?” Havelock asked softly.

Samuel nodded. “I miss you,” He told him. “I miss spending time with you too… I just, with Sybil pregnant, well, it worries me to leave her alone, and I understand her wanting me to be home.”

“Believe me, I understand as well.” And Havelock would agree that she did have more of a right to Samuel than he did, especially right now. He pressed a kiss to Samuel’s forehead, right above his right eyebrow. “Speaking of, how did you find the time?” He asked softly, rubbing Samuel’s back. 

The watchman sighed in pleasure. Massages were one of his weak points. His muscles got awfully tired being under stress all the time. “She went to spend time with her girlfriends,” he murmured. “She told me to visit you… she… she still supports us. It’s just been a hard pregnancy,” Samuel murmured, his eyes nearly closed in pleasure.

Havelock softened. “That’s good to hear,” he pressed a gentle kiss to Samuel’s lips, revelling in the way they moved against his own. It was lazy, but it was content, too. “When are you owed back to her?”

“Just by tonight, no specific time,” Samuel said, stealing another kiss.

Havelock indulged in it as well. “Well then I suppose I’ll have to treasure what time we have left,” he murmured, kissing Samuel again. 


	27. Thomas/John: Hanahaki disease

“Keel,” Samuel gripped his adopted dad, terrified he’d lose him. “You could start over. You just need to get rid of those stupid flowers!”

“Kid, my times almost up anyways. Besides, I'm too old to start again,” Keel muttered gruffly, coughing up flowers. He supposed it was a strange want- to go out of this world loving a man who would never love you back. But he’d trade having love for him to having five, ten more years of that loss of his feeling. He’d simply become too used to it.

  
  
  



	28. Samuel/Havelock: "If you do this, you will be dead to me."

_ "If you do this, you will be dead to me." _ Samuel threatened, but it was only out of fear.

Havelock locked eyes with Samuel. “I told you to do your job. Do what’s best for the people.”

“You don’t have to do this, Havelock. You could run,” Samuel urged.

Havelock smiled softly, shaking his head. “It wouldn’t solve the problem. The people of Ankh-Morpork want a show.”

“They’d forget about you with time. You don’t have to die.”

“It’s your job to kill me,” Havelock said, meeting Samuel’s eyes.

“I don’t want to. Please, just run.”

“They would find me anyways.” He’d rather die by Samuel’s hand than be stoned on the street. At least Samuel would make it quick and honorable.

Samuel shook his head, tears pricking his eyes. “Just go.”

Havelock met his eyes, gently cupping Samuel’s face. “You promised me.” He kissed him gently. “As your last service to me… please fulfill that,” he said softly, looking in his eyes.

Samuel teared up. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t what he wanted. “Why can’t you go?”

“I’d be caught. There’s no escape… so… I want to die by your hand. I know you’ll do it right.” 

Samuel sniffled, wiping at his eyes. “But I love you” He said quietly.

“I love you too, Samuel. Please, do this for me. Do it out of love,” Havelock said, desperately hoping he’d upkeep his promise.

And he did. He did with tears in his eyes and he did even though he broke down right after. 

Trudging back to Sybil felt like a journey as he headed home, numb and sore from the murder.

Sybil did her best to comfort Samuel, to breathe life back into him where Havelock’s was lost, but she couldn’t fill that hole in the end.


	29. Ludo/Downey: "I want to turn back the clock to before you ever saw him."

_ "I want to turn back the clock to before  _ you ever saw him,” Ludo whispered to Downey’s sleeping body. The crying had been the force that did him in, and now he laid peacefully in Ludo’s bed, covered with his covers.

So in short, Downey didn’t respond. 

That was for the better. Ludo didn’t want him to actually hear it… he was just stating the reason of some of his turmoil… not to mention Downey’s.

“I don’t get what you see in that Dog-Botherer anyway. He doesn’t treat you right, he doesn’t care about you… He’s a filthy sadist… and… Downey, you’re better than him. You deserve so much better,” Ludo murmured, anger and pain in his chest. He really meant those words. He just didn’t say them until now. 

He didn’t know what he was hoping for? Was it just about ranting and getting his feelings out? Or was it about trying to subliminally change Downey for the better?

He couldn’t tell. 

Ludo sighed, looking at his sleeping form, his peaceful face. He hardly ever looked like that… 

“I love you,” he whispered finally, kissing his forehead.


	30. Ludo/Downey/Havelock: "I never meant to come between you and him."

_ "I never meant to come between you and him,” _ Havelock said, disintererested.

Ludo scowled at the ground. He knew Havelock didn’t deep down inside, and him saying it only made it more obvious, but... that only stun more. Because if Havelock and Downey were truly happy he could set aside his feelings and learn to be happy for him.

But they  _ weren’t _ . And if Havelock wasn’t encouraging it, then Downey was doing this to himself.

And Ludo couldn’t tell why. It almost a tragedy to him, because if Downey would just turn to him he’d love and support him and treat him like a fucking human! But instead the man he loved ran towards another just to be beaten down by a man who didn’t care for Downey- no, he practically hated him for the boy he was years ago instead of the man he was today.

  
  



	31. Ludo/Downey/Havelock: "If you leave now, you lose everything."

_ "If you leave now, you lose everything,"  _ Havelock said, his cold gaze piercing through Downey.

Ludo gritted his teeth. “Downey, c’mon,” he urged. 

Downey froze, looking at Havelock. Please no.

“Come, Downey,” Havelock ordered.

Downey looked at Ludo with regret, but ultimately gave in, sheepishly crawling over to his Master.

Ludo looked on in horror. So he was still stuck. Ludo sighed, grumbling as he turned on his heel, walking out. He couldn’t watch that. But the game wasn’t over. He’d try until he died.

And he did, to no avail.

Downey was hopelessly owned by Havelock.


	32. Ludo/Downey/Havelock: "Oh my God. You're in love with him."

_ "Oh my God. You're in love with him,” _ Ludo said softly, growing more horrified.

Downey curled in on himself, regret in his heart growing. “You can’t tell him… I can’t have feelings,” he said softly.

Ludo found himself both pitying him, relating to him, and being angry for him. “You deserve better,” he said, as he always did.

Sometimes Downey wished Ludo would still say those things to him... But Death had taken him, and there was no going back. He would have to face his feelings without his support, without his validation. 

He wasn’t doing as well, honestly. He bottled his feelings up- all of them, and they stewed inside him, convincing him he was worthless and that he deserved nothing, especially not sympathy.

Ludo wished he could be there for Downey as he watched him decline even further. But his time had come too soon, and now it was up. He just prayed Downey would learn to love himself at least a little bit and leave him. He couldn’t repent for his childhood mistakes for the rest of his life...


	33. Downey and OC Daughter: Jamaica Farewell Songfic

“What’s wrong with you?” A raggedy old sailor asked, plunking next to Downey. He took a swig of rum, offering Downey some.

Downey took it without a word, taking a few gulps before passing it back with a sigh. “I had to leave my little girl back in Ankh Morpork,” he said softly.

“Your daughter? Is she with your wife? Or ex-wife?”

Downey slumped, shaking his head. 

“Then what?”

“I’ve been exiled by the ex-Patrician,” it was perhaps Havelock’s last act of cruelty, and certainly the one that cut the deepest. He didn’t mind being treated like a despised animal so long as he could go home to her. But now he could never do that. Or at least not if the new Patrician cared about that or if Havelock lived longer than him. “She’s the new Duchess…” His beloved daughter. He slumped in the boat, a deep sorrow in his eyes.

“What did you do?” The sailor asked, furrowing his brow. Why didn’t the daughter leave? 

Downey didn’t want to get into that. “It’s based in history that I guess never was forgotten,” and history that would only die with them. 

“Why isn’t your daughter here with you?” The sailor asked finally.

“She’d been promoted to duchess… so I told her to stay. It’d been her dream ever since she was just a little girl. She’d spent her life training for the position… I couldn’t beckon her to come live with me.” He slumped more, his eyes getting dewey. “She’s all grown up… I suppose she had to move out sometime,” he sniffled. Although in reality, he had been the one to move out. Alesia had inherited everything except some of Downey’s essential items and a chunk of money on which Downey intended to retire on. He was an old sack of bones, and he’d been trained only as an assassin and a guildmaster. In short, there was no chance of him finding a new profession.

He wiped at his eyes, sniffling. Alesia had told him as soon as he landed to send a clacks message to her, and truly he couldn’t wait until that… or until she visited him again. It hadn’t been a week and the loss of her cut him deep like a knife. She was one of the last things he cared about. She was one of the last things he decided to live for. 

The sailor offered his rum. “Keep the bottle, you look like you need it more than I do… I’m sorry about your daughter,” he said awkwardly. He didn’t deal with emotion much, and he felt out of his realm when Downey started crying, not to mention guilty. He wasn’t supposed to harass the passengers. He hoped the alcohol would shut him up.

Downey sighed, taking the bottle and retreating to his quarters, holding back an outburst until he was behind closed doors. Some part of him still cared about his dignity, he supposed, but as an untrustworthy assassin, that was something that didn’t just leave.

Honestly he didn’t know how he’d kept it together that long, he thought once he made it to the room. He supposed he’d numbed himself, unable to accept the loss. He thought he’d always get to be there for her. He thought he’d get to see her become Duchess. He thought he would have her beside his deathbed. 

When Havelock said he wouldn’t mess with her he supposed he expected too much.

He drank another swig of rum. He needed to be drunk, he decided. He needed to be drunk or he’d convince himself to throw himself off the ship. And he couldn’t do that. He sobbed into his rum. Alesia still needed a message from him. She needed to know he was safe. 

In short, he’d have to stay alive for her visits, whenever she could make them. He didn’t know if it would be time spans of months or years, either. And… well, he supposed he’d also be staying alive for her clacks messages and letters. 

But he already knew those messages wouldn’t compare to holding her in his arms.

That night was the beginning of Downey’s final downfall. It marked the descent into alcoholism. He found himself in need of a hazy mind to bear being gone from her. Hazy minds were better to dream with. Hazy minds fogged emotions. 

With his age, it wasn’t a surprise he didn’t make it two years. Unfortunately, as he’d predicted, his dear daughter hadn’t made it to his death bed. He died alone (spare Death), as we all do, but in a sense he was truly alone. His body was found a week later, as the bartender at the local saloon stopped in to check on the old geezer that had been Downey.

Alesia arrived a week after that. After searching the town for information, she found her dear old father had been buried without so much as a ceremony. Being uprooted, he’d had no one who truly cared for him there. Alesia went to his grave, making an impromptu funeral. She kissed the gravestone, and had to leave the next day. 

Every few years she visits Downey’s grave. It always brings her to tears that he was buried so far from home. Carter had offered to allow him to be buried in the graveyard his family had been in Ankh Morpork, but no sailor would ship his casket that far due to safety concerns. 

Alesia bit back her grief and anger that her father laid with strangers, vowing that when she hit her own decline she’d lay to rest with him.

She was the only other Downey to be buried in that graveyard, and, having reserved her spot next to her father’s, she stayed with him for the eternity of death.


	34. Ludo/Havelock/Downey: "He doesn't understand you like I do."

He doesn't understand you like I do, Ludo thought, gazing at Downey. He’d gotten himself all dressed up. A scholarship kid… scrapping together enough for a suit.   
And Ludo would’ve paid for it all if he’d just go with him, his best friend, the man who actually gave a fuck about him. But no, he had accepted the Dog-Botherer’s invitation.   
Thirty minutes of Downey waiting for his ride had said enough to Ludo. He knew already that Downey had done all of this for nothing.  
But Downey didn’t see it. He didn’t get that Havelock would never let his bullying go. He didn’t see that he would never be happy with Havelock because Havelock would never want him to be.  
He just blindly went along with it.  
Still, though, Ludo wanted to be with Downey most. Going to prom was just a formality, it was bland without his best friend… friend…   
They spent the night together, and two hours in it was clear to Downey that he’d put in all that work for a night at home. So Ludo comforted him the best way he knew how, with wine, some shows, and food.  
And in a way, Havelock had almost given him a gift. Because Ludo didn’t want prom, he wanted Downey.


	35. Ludo/Downey/Havelock: "You make me feel like I'm not good enough."

“What’s wrong?” Downey asked softly, looking to his best friend.

Ludo wanted to hold it back. He did, but today had been rough, and his emotions were running wild. So he snapped.  _ "You make me feel like I'm not good enough,” _ he said, hurt.

Downey furrowed his brow. “What?” He asked.

“I’ve done everything to try and help you, and every time you run off with that stupid Dog-Botherer! What do you see in him?” His voice cracked.

Downey’s eyes widened, and he flushed, feeling ashamed. “You don’t understand, Ludo. It’s not that simple,” he said softly.

Ludo gripped the fabric on his pants, his face flushing as well, but his was with anger. “He treats you awfully.”

Downey’s shoulders slumped. He deserved it, though… He deserved whatever Havelock wanted to do to him. 

Ludo glared, getting up. “Whatever, fine,” he said, leaving quietly.

Downey had never felt so alone.


	36. Downey/Havelock: "For some reason, I'm attracted to you."

_ For some reason, I'm attracted to you _

I have no right to be

You don’t want me to be

Nobody wants me to be

But for some reason, I’m attracted to you

I don’t know what it is

I can’t place it

But something about you I trust

I know I shouldn’t

You still seem to hold that grudge from our school days

Not that I have the right to blame you

And even though you punish me with whips and chains

And sadistic, demeaning commands

I can’t help but put faith into you

To become whatever you want

And what I’m beginning to realize is what I want too

This wasn’t supposed to be a love poem

I know I shouldn’t mention the word

If you ever see this, this is nothing about love

It’s only about the craving I have to be your dog

And the trust within

That’s all it should be, after all

We both agreed

No feelings

So that’s what this is

No feelings

Just trust, and rudimentary attraction

From me to you

But I can’t help but wonder

If someday you should betray my trust

For the good of the world

For your own good

And, selfishly, for my own good as well

I know I’m supposed to be a fighter

And I am

I excel as far as I am able,

I push myself to the limits

I strive for perfection and have gained some esteem

But

Perhaps I am tainted

I hurt you

I’m sure I’ve hurt more

I’ve even hurt myself

Maybe something inside me is dark   
Or something inside me is broken

Maybe if I’m not extinguished my flame is meant to burn

Maybe I’m not good for this world

It would explain my past behaviors

It would explain how I feel when I lie awake at night

Perhaps this world and I are incompatible

Or it’s punishing me for my future

I don’t think normal people feel the way I do

I think normal people are more trusting

But I don’t have many to trust

And I don’t have many to care about

And… I have nobody that I can love

And I’m beginning to wonder

If this world believes that if it suffocates my joy

If I’ll surrender the quest of life

And lay down a white flag in my own ashes

And perhaps that is how it intends to take care of this future fire

If that is the strategy

And that is the case

And life will continue to suck out my joy

And my reasons to continue on

If it gets to that point

Where I only have myself

Then selfishly I hope that you betray my trust

And stick a knife in my heart, watching me bleed out and stain the linoleum red

(Please don’t do it on the carpet, I’ve already caused you enough trouble)

It would be an assassination

(Is it strange to want to go like that?)

Done by your hand

(Is it strange to think it fitting if I did?)

A removal of scum like me from this earth

…

Graduation is coming up

It’s the cusp of adulthood

When kids tend to begin to spread their wings

…

Perhaps I’m trusting you with all the wrong things

Perhaps I just need to trust you to clip my wings

And end me before it begins

Instead of trusting that you’ll care for me

(How blind was I to think that? To trust that?)

(My feelings disgust me)

I guess this will be my final request, then, Havelock

But I can’t feel guilty since I know that you’ll enjoy it

You’ve always liked to see me in pain

When I fly into the sun

Clip my wings and make me plummet

Kill me before I do more damage

Before I taint the Earth

And let your gleeful eyes be the last thing I see


	37. Drumknott/Reacher: "I've been waiting a long time for you."

_"I've been waiting a long time for you,”_ Drumknott murmured, looking to Reacher as though life was a fairytale.  
Reacher gazed back into his companion’s eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you too…” Drumknott was so much more than he ever realized… he was amazing and kind and sweet. His purity melted Reacher’s heart, and all he wanted was to protect him and make him happy.

Drumknott blushed at that. “For me?” He grinned, his eyes sparkling.

Reacher nodded again.

Drumknott gave a sheepish smile. “I love you,” he said, pulling his best friend into a kiss.

Reacher couldn’t complain as he kissed back, his heart warm and happy.


	38. Downey/Havelock: "It's three in the morning."

Downey looked over to Havelock, watching him quietly as they were curled up in the latter’s bed. It’d been a long day, and a long night. In short, Downey should really be sleeping, but instead he found himself staring.

This, however, didn’t work for Havelock. He couldn’t sleep with Downey’s eyes on him, nor would he. “Downey, go to sleep,” he said, turning to face the man.  _ “It’s three in the morning.” _

Downey sighed, looking down to avoid Havelock’s icy gaze. “I can’t sleep,” he mumbled, nervous.

Havelock rolled his eyes. It was three in the morning? How the fuck couldn’t he sleep? “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

Downey obeyed, now that he couldn’t study Havelock there was no reason to even hesitate to follow the order… besides, he was used to following Havelock’s orders by now.

“And sleep,” Havelock added, not really knowing how to coax someone to sleep.

Downey grew frustrated. “That’s now how it works,” he backtalked, something that would’ve gotten him a harsh slap, but he was out of his collar, allowed to be a human, and like Havelock said, it was three in the morning.

“Try,” Havelock muttered, honestly just debating on getting up and leaving the room. He was tired.

“I’ve been trying,” Downey said, even more frustrated that they weren’t seeing eye to eye. Yes he should follow orders, but if he can’t follow an order then that’s on Havelock. And  _ that _ made him more frustrated, and even less willing to sleep.

Havelock was frustrated too. He didn’t know how to order someone to sleep successfully, and Downey being frustrated wouldn’t change that. All he knew was that  _ he _ needed to sleep. 

“Fine then, let me take you home,” Havelock said.

Downey’s heart sunk. No. He didn’t want to go home, to leave him… this was supposed to be a treat. He wanted to wake up next to Havelock.

“I’ll fall asleep eventually,” Downey maintained.

“Downey,” Havelock muttered, frustrated. “ _ I _ need my sleep.”

“You can sleep,” Downey said stubbornly.

“I can’t sleep while you’re awake,” Havelock argued.

“Why not?” Downey’s eyes were opened again, and his anger was mounting.

“Because I can’t,” trust you. Havelock looked at him, frustrated too.

Downey got up, shoving his covers onto Havelock. “ _ Fine _ . Good night.” 

Havelock moved to get up. “Do you want me to-”

“I can handle myself,” Downey said, closing the door behind him. It made a quiet slam against the doorframe as Downey stormed out of there. Not a block from Havelock’s house and tears of general agitation flooded his eyes. He wanted to have a good night… And sure he could fight off people himself, but he couldn’t help but think that in truth he couldn’t handle himself, which only made him more emotional.

At least when Downey got home he was able to cry himself to sleep.


	39. Downey/Havelock: “Why are you helping me?”

_ “Why are you helping me?” _ Downey asked, his eyes focused on the kid he’d bullied for years now.

“Because I’m a better person than you are,” Havelock said icily, unaware of his future punishments. He offered Downey the sandwich again.

Downey reluctantly took it, hesitantly taking a bite. He nearly moaned at the taste. It was so much better than the shit he scrounged up from dumpsters. He looked at it, offering it back to Havelock, unsure of how far the kindness stretched.

“It’s yours,” Havelock said. He wouldn’t want it anyways.

Downey’s eyes lit up, though he ducked his head to hide it as he went back to eating with a gusto. 

“Not too fast,” Havelock warned, watching him with interest. It was… cute in a sense, though he wouldn’t be forgiving Downey anytime soon no matter how cute he looked. “You’ll get sick.”

Downey nearly whined, but he figured he should heed the warning, so he slowed down. “Thank you,” He murmured in between his bites.

Havelock nodded. “Tell me if you need food, okay?” He said, maintaining a disinterested tone to not appear like he cared.

Downey blushed at that. “Oh… Okay,” he said softly, his heart speeding up. Huh… Dog Botherer was… a lot better than he thought.


	40. Thomas Vimes/ John Keel: “I’m not going anywhere."

_ “I’m not going anywhere,”  _ Thomas said softly, petting Keel’s hair as the man trembled, terrified that confessing his emotions was an awful decision.

“Do you hate me?” Keel asked.

“I could never hate you,” Thomas said, smiling softly. “And honestly… I… have been feeling the same way. I swear every day you seem to be a better man,” Thomas blushed, chuckling softly.

Keel flushed. “I’m glad you think so…” He murmured, flustered.

Thomas chuckled. “So… we should make this work,” he kissed Keel’s cheek. “How about dinner on Friday?”

“That sounds amazing,” Keel sighed.


	41. Samuel/Havelock: “I’ve got you. Breathe, okay? I’ve got you.”

Samuel scrambled on top of the rooftop, dragging the Patrician as he scanned for an escape, but within seconds the heights took their effect and he found himself intimidated as he stared at the ground.

Havelock paid no mind, grabbing Samuel as he tugged him along. There was a few jumps, and with Havelock’s prodding he managed to get Samuel over a few, but the long jump was the problem. 

As he jumped over he didn’t quite make it, so he gripped onto the edge of the rooftop, his heart pounding in his chest as his knees got shaky. The ground didn’t care how strong you were, it was always stronger.

Havelock quickly grabbed him, pulling him up.  _ “ _ Samuel,  _ I’ve got you. Breathe, okay? I’ve got you.  _ It’s okay,” he held him against his chest, grabbing out some throwing knives and defending the pair shortly before he pet the brunet’s hair.

Samuel didn’t often go into animalistic panting, but he was deathly shaken, and he gripped onto Havelock, letting out whimpers as he quaked. He decided he  _ hated _ parkour.

Havelock watched out for them, helping Samuel gain consciousness again before he more carefully lead them to safety, being careful to watch out for the man.


	42. Ludo/Downey: “If you don’t love me, tell me. Please, just let me go.”

_ “If you don’t love me, tell me. Please, just let me go,” _ was all Ludo wanted to say, but he knew that it was a lie. Whether William loved him or not he’d follow him like a lost puppy, nipping at his heels and begging for attention. He didn’t know why he loved him so much, but it was as though every good part about William was cast in stage lights, and the bad was hidden in only the most insignificant crevices.

So even though it hurt, he stayed by his side. He helped where he could. All he wanted was to see the man happy.. To see the man safe. And… he didn’t regret it. So long as William was  _ there  _ he could forget everything and be happy. And he was thankful for it.

 


	43. Downey: Growth

_ “If the absence of decision limits my growth,  _ then so be it

For I only wish to grow in your direction

And if my growth is apart from you, I don’t want it

In short, I want you to appreciate me

To let me grow near you

To love me

And if letting you make my decisions does that

Then limit me”

 

Downey looked at the poem he’d written 20 years ago. The times had truly changed. Now he had a beautiful daughter (a reason to grow, if you will), not to mention a happier, more confident life. Sure, he had only grown apart because Havelock had severed the bond, but seeing how he grew on his own, he found he was immensely grateful. He couldn’t imagine life without his daughter, and he knew she would have never come along if he were still tied up in those thoughts. He looked at the letter. He’d grown from that; he was a new man. He looked at the candle on his desk. He didn’t need a reminder of those ideas that had shackled him either. He’d grown beyond them. He let the candle’s flame climb up the paper, eventually blowing it out just before the flames nicked his fingers. He was done with that past, and freed from it.


	44. Jonathan/Carcer: “Never heard of that being used as a murder weapon before."

_ “Never heard of that being used as a murder weapon before,”  _ Carcer said, looking over to Patient X-22, or as he liked to call him, Jonathan Teatime. 

Jonathan hummed as he scribbled on the walls. “Most anything can be a murder weapon if you decide to murder with it. Even these crayons, I bet,” He said, continuing his very… interpretive drawing.

“I suppose that is true,” Carcer conceded with amusement. “You must be an innovative genius, though,” he chuckled.

“For murdering, perhaps,” Teatime said softly. “You know, I always have considered that if I were to have a calling, it would be killing people. I even started young. Which makes it… very frustrating to be cooped up in here, when I could be doing what I need to.”

Carcer blinked. “I see… well, I’m not sure myself that you need to be kept in either,” he murmured silently, thoughtfully.

He would have to figure out a way to leave with Jonathan, he figured.

 


	45. Downey/Ludo: “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Wait-” Downey reached out, grabbing the gray, woolly overcoat of the stranger. The stranger who looked like a dead man walking. The stranger he hoped with every shred of his being was a dead man walking.

The stranger stopped at the tug, yanking his arm back with an offended scoff as his brown eyes looked at Downey with utter disgust.

Brown eyes. They weren’t hazel. And he didn’t have Ludo’s nose… or the rest of his face… he was most certifiably not Ludo.  _ “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” _ Downey said before he even registered everything. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. And that twinge of sadness he kept biting back in hopes he could just subvert the flood of sadness. He shoved the sadness down again.

“Well don’t grab a man by his jacket,” the guy said, scoffing as he headed off quickly, checking his pockets.

Downey looked on quietly, before walking away. His feet carried him places before his mind caught up, and before he knew it he’d taken every right turn to get to Ludo’s grave. He stared at it quietly, backing up desperately. No- no that was hitting the wrong button. No- he couldn’t- he can’t cry.

But the tidal wave he’d been pushing back forced itself in with a tsunami of tears, and he found himself crying at the grave, unable to escape or push it back. He cried for awhile, but something about all the pain was comforting. He liked to think that it was Ludo there with him, beside him. 

He eventually wiped his tears, giving the grave a hasty hug, and hating how pathetic it was before he went home quietly.

As much as it hurt, it healed him in a way.


	46. Downey and OC Daughter- “I know you did your best, but it just wasn’t enough this time."

_ “I know you did your best, but it just wasn’t enough  _ this time,” Downey said softly, rubbing Alesia’s back as she cried into his shoulder. This was such a hard lesson to learn. “But you did what you could do, and that’s what matters. You did good, even if you don’t think so,” he kissed her cheek gently.

Alesia sniffled, whimpering softly. “I could’ve done better!” She cried.

“Shh, you did good. You’ll do better next time having failed. Sometimes we have to fail to get up again, love. It’s how we improve. No reason fixing something that’s not broken, right?” He nuzzled her gently, kissing her cheek again.

She cried for awhile longer, before she wore herself off and slept on his shoulder.

He gently picked her up, holding her against him until he laid her down in bed, gently taking off her shoes. He left the rest, they could deal with the dress later. He gently tucked her in, closing the door quietly as he left and put away the shoes. He loved her so much.


	47. Moist/Havelock: “No need to steal, I'll share."

_ “No need to steal, I'll share,” _ Havelock said, grabbing the wrist of the tween he couldn’t quite find a face on.

The kid’s eyes were wide as he yanked back his hand like it would be branded if it stayed. “I-I wasn’t going to steal,” he lied, his voice breaking with the fearful shock.

Havelock sighed, pulling the… he seemed to be a brunette, right? It was somewhere between blond and black surely… Either way, Havelock lead the kid to the table further in the park, splitting his sandwich in two. “Don’t steal from people,” he ordered.

He couldn’t figure out what about this boy compelled him to be nicer than he ought to, but he couldn’t say he regretted it, even if he was down half a sandwich. The boy was eating with the controlled eagerness of a starving man trying his best to ration food, and it struck all of the nerves that beggars attempted to but never could touch.


	48. Moist/Havelock: “No need to steal, I'll share." Sequel

The man without a face has lately taken refuge in my mind. He reminds me of the boy I’d shared my lunch with. And I can only imagine they’re one and the same, after all, how could anyone else be so perfectly indistinguishable? He seems to still be a scam, and likely a theif. Though honestly I’m not surprised at that fact. One sandwich and one order will not change a man, and I suppose it won’t change a child either.

But I wonder what could change him. 


	49. Moist/Havelock: “No need to steal, I'll share." Third edition

Moist had noticed something peculiar. Well, peculiar being that he didn’t believe in faeries. For the last two weeks before he sat down to eat lunch, he found that his coat pocket had been filled with a turkey and cheese sandwich, diagonally cut. 

It was bizarre. He’d tested them for poison a few times, but eventually gave up, figuring that he trusted the person by now, and he didn’t mind the favor. A free lunch was a free lunch.

Havelock couldn’t wait for Moist to put two and two together.


	50. Moist/Havelock: “No need to steal, I'll share." Fourth edition

Over time Moist had found ways to stealthily observe who was placing the sandwiches in his pocket. To do this he would change jackets practically daily. Over time he realized it was always a spy in black. With more time he realized the person was often the same. 

So he found ways to locate the person putting the sandwiches in his pocket, and before he had time to think, he found the man always returned to the Patrician’s palace.

And then he thought. He looked up the face of the man, studied it, and slowly realized that that was the weary, older face of the man who had shared his sandwich. But what was this about? 

The next day he caught the spy by the arm. “Why is the Patrician making you do this?” He demanded quietly.

But the spy was gone in a second.

Vetinari heard the tale from the spy later.

“Fascinating,” he said, taking a sip of his tea and scratching Wuffles’ cheeks.


	51. Drumknott/Reacher: Watching over someone special

Reacher had been… watching the secretary. And he’d begun to have a very strong suspicion that… well, Rufus Drumknott did not seem to be very in tune with himself… he also seemed to rely heavily on schedules, writing things down, and other organizational techniques.

So, Reacher did some mild tests. Nothing that wouldn’t happen naturally, just dropping by on unexpected days off and observing how he handled them… and, well, namely himself. He suspected that Drumknott was, well, at the very least too organized. And slightly air-headed when not dealing with what was in his mind or on paper. 

Occasionally Reacher would ask Drumknott if he remembered if he had coffee, or other things, and his answers often seemed dazed and confused. This only furthered his suspicion.

And, well, because he was beginning to feel his hard heart soften for the secretary, he decided he would schedule Rufus’ days off, dragging him into plans so he could make sure he was properly taken care of. On those days he tried to avoid too many parties, finding that the secretary almost seemed unused to people outside of professional life, even going so far as to seem intimidated or weary of too much interaction. But he still tried to keep his head out of the books if he could. Rufus seemed to get too much studying in his life, and another suspicion of Reacher’s is that it was a crutch to avoid some loneliness with vivid thought.

And while he couldn’t complain at how incredible Rufus’ mind was, he, well, he wanted to engage him in activity with a human… or, well, he supposed mainly with him.

One of the first experiences was canoeing. Rufus of course was nervous. Reacher wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t athletic, though strangely his physical weakness only made him so much more enchanting to Reacher. Reacher assured him, easily taking over and rowing the raft alone, telling Rufus that it was no problem, and oh, why don’t you look at those trees over there. What kind of birds live there, do you suppose?

And over time, with these one-on-one, low pressure, dare-he-say enjoyable outings, Rufus seemed to come out of his shell a bit more, and smile brighter. Reacher couldn’t help but think it was all more than worth it, and was glad that Rufus seemed to grow close to him as he had began to grow fond of the secretary.


	52. Havelock/Samuel: First kiss

It was late at night. Samuel was sweaty from a hard day’s work of running around and coppering, and Havelock’s mind had been bombarded with knowledge since the crack of dawn at the Academy. But yet Havelock sat in Samuel’s windowsill, and Samuel sat beside him, talking. 

And as Samuel talked, Havelock found himself compulsively drawn to the way his lips moved, or how his eyes shown in the moonlight, or how his mouth curled sometimes as he looked in Havelock’s eyes. Havelock could feel a tension, at least on his part, between them, something stemming from the fact that he’d never been captivated quite like this by anyone else.

Samuel watched Havelock as they chatted. He loved looking into his icy blue eyes, desperately hoping to warm them and reveal some of the mystery they always held. He loved his smooth voice, and how smart he always was. He loved that Havelock looked at him and he seemed to think he was something. And, well, in all honesty, something about that attractive, cool exterior just made Samuel want to smash it into something hot and passionate… for him, though he always hid those sentiments for when darkness took Ankh Morpork and he was alone with himself.

But that night, something about the way the moon basked Havelock’s face and how he kept looking at Samuel’s lips and how Havelock watched Samuel in general… well… Samuel was imbued with a desire for a chance. And so he took a moment, ending his speech in a dazed sort of niceness, before he caught Havelock’s eyes. He still saw that intrigue, so he hesitantly rested a hand on his knee, it shaking, before he closed his eyes and tilted his head, slowly leaning in.

Havelock hesitated a moment, analyzing what exactly was happening, before his cheeks grew warm and he closed his eyes, gently pressing his lips to Samuel’s and securing both of their first kiss.


	53. Samuel/Sybil: “I am only telling the truth when I say that you have not behaved completely as a gentleman in this matter."

“I am only telling the truth when I say that you have not behaved completely as a gentleman in this matter,” Sybil lectured.  
Samuel sighed, flopping on the bed. “I thought you didn’t care for gentlemen.”  
“I normally don’t, but unfortunately, the Duke is required to be in places such as these. In order to represent Ankh Morpork, and Havelock, well, you need to do your job well,” Sybil explained.  
Samuel moaned in protest. “I just don’t get all these political things,” he frowned.  
“I know you don’t, that’s why I’m here,” Sybil sat beside him, the dip she created in the bed pressing Samuel against her thighs. She pet his forehead. “But you need to work with me.”  
He looked in her eyes, sighing and nodding. “Okay then… I’ll try to be a gentleman.”  
“Just for this. Forget what I taught you whenever we’re alone,” She giggled, kissing his forehead.  
He blushed, smiling softly. “Okay,” he said, glad that she still wanted the him that he was.


	54. Moist/Samuel/Havelock: "I love you" "Yeet"

Samuel:  
‘Hey’  
‘You know when I said I love you yesterday?’  
‘And I said I was joking?’  
‘Um, well, as you kids say.. Jk??’  
‘Heh uhm Havelock said I should be honest’  
‘So… yeah… I love you’

Samuel could feel his heart racing as he stared at his phone, trying to stop his fingers from typing anything more.  
Moist looked at his phone, his eyes wide. What? Love? Him? Did he even know him? Fuck, what should he do? Confusion? Confusion.

Moist:  
‘Yeet’

Samuel stared at his screen, utterly confused.

Samuel:   
‘Did you just reply yeet to my I love you?’

Moist:   
‘Yeet?’

Samuel was distressed. He passed his phone to Havelock, moaning in sadness as he buried his face against the thin man’s shoulder.

Havelock:  
‘Moist are you okay?’

Moist:  
‘Sure what’s up’

Havelock:  
‘Samuel’s upset that you replied yeet. I think he wants to know where you both stand’

Moist:  
‘Oh shit’  
‘Uhhhhhhhhhhh’  
“I was not expecting this’

Havelock sighed. 

Havelock:   
‘At least tell him that you understand and you’ll tell him how you feel when you know better’

Moist sighed, reluctantly pulling up Samuel’s contact as his stomach flipped. Love?

Moist:  
‘Hey’  
‘Uh, I got your whole I love you thing… yeah’  
‘Um but Idk what’s going on in my brain so lmao’  
‘Um Idk haha’

Samuel sucked in a nervous breath before he started his text.

Samuel:   
‘Do you not want to spend time with me anymore?’

Moist:  
‘Nah, we should still hang out… I guess I’ll just take time sorry ugh this stuff makes me nervous’

Samuel:  
‘Sorry, it was too soon, wasn’t it? Sorry’

Moist:  
‘Hey it’s not your fault… thanks for trying to be sweet and honest. I’ll see you tomorrow night, how about we just have fun then?’

Samuel:  
‘Okay’

In all honesty, Samuel felt a little bit better, though he was still scared about moving too fast or upsetting Moist or being rejected. Havelock did his best to relax him, fixing him a cup of tea and making sure he drank it.


	55. Mavolio/Downey: “It’s a genetic trait, but it’s exceptionally rare."

_ “It’s a genetic trait, but it’s exceptionally rare,”  _ Mavolio explained. 

Downey nodded, leaning against the sofa a bit more as he sipped his tea. It was decaffeinated, per Mavolio’s request. He seemed to try to be cracking down on William having caffeine at night (which William would reluctantly admit that it did help him sleep, and it seemed to almost help him destress as well). “Did you ever worry about it?” He asked.

“Well, coming from the family of clowns sometimes it was… uncomfortable to be the only one who didn’t laugh. And sometimes I worried about making friends or having relationships.” Even now he worried that it would put a strain on his relationship with William.

“I see…” That was unfortunate. He leaned over, kissing his cheek on a whim. He felt a need to reassure him in that moment. He leaned his head on Mavolio’s shoulder lazily. “My family has a bad string of genetics,” William explained. “It’s expected our hair will go grey or white in our twenties or thirties, though it seems it is whitening earlier, and for a while the men in my family have been dying at fifty or earlier,” he murmured, sighing.

Mavolio paled. “At fifty?” He said softly, his heart speeding up. He didn’t want to think of losing William so early. “Why?” he asked.

“Stress, I’d guess,” William said, resigned to the fact by now.

Mavolio frowned. “I see,” he murmured. He supposed it wasn’t a surprise. Even early on he’d noticed the man seemed to overwork himself for every tiny insignificant detail, and even then it had worried him. He supposed he’d have to try and play a stricter role in minimizing it where he could. He couldn’t guarantee it would be effective in staving off his death, but even if it didn’t William didn’t deserve to be stressed for the rest of his life.

That night, Mavolio began planning a mandatory vacation for his boyfriend.


	56. Mavolio/Downey: Affected

William gasped at the gentle- almost too gentle- thigh rub that Mavolio was doing. He’d had this done before. He’d been touched like this- worse- worse in so many different ways, and yet this elicited such an innocent response. It troubled him. He didn’t want to be some flustered idiot acting naive and innocent when he wasn’t. He didn’t want to look naive and innocent either. And yet his body responded to these things as though he had never been touched before.

Maybe it had to deal with those fresh feelings of being tugged by the rug underneath him into the warmth of affection. Maybe it was how Mavolio cared to care, and desired him in all the ways he wished a partner to desire him. Maybe it was how he tied everything together in one compassionate, wonderful experience that just made William feel… well… he supposed he felt entirely safe. And warm. And it was strange how it seemed to be something so rare, yet this man of all men knew how to plug into what William needed so easily. 

Mavolio gently pulled William into another kiss, revelling in the soft sigh the other gave. He craved his responses, loving the primal, instinctual, pure and true approval that William expressed without thoughts clouding the way.


	57. Mavolio and Downey's OC Daughter: “I know you’re here. You may as well show yourself."

_ “I know you’re here. You may as well show yourself,” _ Mavolio said, knowing and trusting that the feeling of being watched was correct.

Alesia waited a second, testing her luck to see if the man really knew.

“William? Or… Alesia?” Mavolio guessed, looking around suspiciously.

Alesia frowned. He really did know. She didn’t really feel inclined to leave, though, so she felt like she ought to come forth. She sighed, popping out of the shadows.

“Mavolio,” she greeted softly, nodding her head in his direction.

Oh, so it was Alesia. Mavolio nodded back. “What are you doing here?” He asked curiously.

Alesia looked at him. “I figured I’d just stop by,” she said innocently, not sure how to tell someone she was spying on them.

“Oh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

She looked away for a second, thinking. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe,” she said, seeing if he’d buy it.

“Why?” He asked again.

She felt awkward. “Because… my father seems interested in you. And I wanted to make sure you could make him happy.”

“I see,” he softened a little bit. “Well, I don’t know about the future, but your father is a very enchanting man… and I’m interested in him too,” Mavolio said. “I do hope that I can make him happy… or help him destress some. He seems to be a man who carries too much on his shoulders,” he added.

Alesia nodded silently. “I agree,” she said after a moment. “I hope you can help him destress too.”

“Yes… well, I’m home,” he said finally. “And it’s late. You should get back yourself… I trust you’re an assassin and can care for yourself?”

“Despite what my father thinks, yes, I can care for myself. ...I’ll see you around,” Alesia gave him a quick smile before disappearing into the night.


	58. Mavolio/Downey: “Why are you helping me?”

_ “Why are you helping me?” _   Downey asked, tears welling up in his eyes, and Mavolio knew he had been overworking and overwhelming himself lately. He wished his boyfriend didn’t try to stack all of the world’s problems onto his shoulders. He didn’t deserve to.

“Because I want you to feel better,” Mavolio said, kissing his forehead and wiping his eyes. “I-I really care about you,” he said, feeling too cowardly to commit to saying love. He just was scared to jump off that edge. He didn’t want William to leave him out of fear.

‘I care about you too” He said softly. “But I don’t want to overwhelm you,” William explained, taking a deep breath. Mavolio was glad that he did so.

“I’m not going to be overwhelmed, love. In fact it would make me feel better if you had less to worry or stress about,” he said softly. “You know I worry for your health when you overwork yourself, and Alesia does to.” He squeezed his shoulders gently.

“I can handle it, though,” William said, and honestly it was because it was just something that had been drilled into his head when he was young. He was used to pushing himself to his limit, and thought that if he wasn’t he was slacking and being a problem.

“William,” Mavolio said. “You don’t have to, and you shouldn’t. I want you to be as happy as you can be. You deserve it. And if I can help you be a bit happier by doing some math, then I am more than willing to do that for you,” he said softly, squeezing his shoulders once more.

William sighed, wiping at his eyes again before he pulled Mavolio into a hug. He wasn’t used to this thinking, and even though he knew it was healthy his mind resisted it and wanted to punish him for not working himself until he was sobbing and stressed out and his hair came out in clumps. He supposed in essence, his mind had been trained to work himself to death. 

Mavolio squeezed him gently, kissing his cheek since he saw William spacing it out. The gesture helped bring his love to the moment, and he sighed. It would be okay. Mavolio would be happy if he helped himself and let him help him. So… it was okay to do it. At least this time.

“Thank you,” he said, entirely grateful.

“I’m happy to,” Mavolio responded with a smile, sitting down to do some work.


	59. Samuel/Moist/Havelock/Sybil: Beauty

Samuel had never thought he would see someone as beautiful as Sybil when he met her, but then came along Havelock, and eventually Moist, and he found that beauty existed in many different forms. And honestly, he loved that. He revelled in the strength of Sybil, in the mysteriousness of Havelock, and in the mischievousness of Moist. He found he craved them in such different ways, and though he liked them each for different things, he found himself unable to choose a favorite in any capacity. Sybil kept him warm, Havelock kept him thoughtful, and Moist kept him young. And honestly, he couldn’t be luckier for having them all.


	60. Drumknott/Reacher: “I didn’t even recognize you!” (High school reunion)

_ “I didn’t even recognize you!” _ Rufus giggled, and Reacher honestly couldn’t say the same. Rufus’ changes were slight things, things that made him look more mature, but he stayed as cute and, dare he say, perfect as ever. He didn’t mind that Rufus was surprised and confused. He grew quite a bit taller, and his features became sharper and more defined with time. And though Rufus always looked at him warmly, he could tell he enjoyed the changes as well.


	61. Jonathan/Carcer: “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard." (Slightly NSFW?)

_ “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard,” _ Carcer giggled, absolutely  _ loving _ that he found a companion who understood his bloodlust. He revelled in the way such an innocent face relayed such graphic and horrifying details. It was… in a very strange way, almost arousing. He loved how the man across from him was so tainted, yet appeared so pure. And he couldn’t help but egg him on more.


	62. Samuel/Sybil: Sickness

Samuel awkwardly brought up the soup. It was a little bit burnt in places, but he’d tried his best. He sighed, going into Sybil’s room guiltily. He wanted to have this all perfect for her. She sat up upon seeing him, reaching out. 

“Oh, thank you, honey,” she smiled, the scent enticing her despite her sickly stomach. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I burnt it a bit, sorry,” he said gruffly.

She still maintained her smile, holding out her arms to take it. “Thank you for cooking this for me,” she said.

He blushed a bit, surprised she didn’t acknowledge his insecurity. He gave it to her carefully, not wanting her to hurt herself, and watched as she ate all of it. Huh… She smiled, blowing him a kiss.

“I love you, and thanks again,” she said warmly.

Samuel didn’t think he could be so happy over a failure.


	63. Moist/Havelock: “I didn’t ask to be abducted."

_ “I didn’t ask to be abducted,” _ Moist huffed, squirming in his cuffs with a glare at the mob boss. He figured he was as good as dead, so why should he cooperate? His eyes scanned the room for the 500th time, looking desperately for an escape route that he might have missed. 

“I’m quite aware,” Havelock said haughtily, impressed at the nerve of him. He supposed the runt thought he had no chance. And while he wished it was obvious that the kid ought to smarten up and comply, it seemed as though the younger ones expected a death wish from a mob for one wrongdoing, even if it were being caught. He supposed, though, he ought to try and give him a chance. After all, he’d captured him for a reason. He could be  _ very _ valuable. 

“I don’t think, Mr. Lipwig, was it? Of course, that’s not the name you’re using, Mr. Spades, but I do prefer a correct form of address,” Havelock said coolly, watching the kid’s eyes widen at hearing his true name. He supposed the kid thought he’d left it behind. And he truly would have, if Havelock wasn’t an amazing spy and detective, who was aware that disguise was part of Moist’s trickery. He was truly an expert in that. “Anyway, I don’t think, Mr. Lipwig, that you are considering the opportunity I am granting you here. I did not just grab you out of dumb luck. I did not grab you with the explicit intent of killing you. I… or should I say, I  _ abducted  _ you, because I think you could be a very valuable asset to me, provided I can trust you.”

Moist looked at him, scanning his face, and Havelock honestly appreciated it. He didn’t try to put up a mask, even if it were to try and appear more convincing. He knew that Moist would see through that. He was trying to read Havelock to see what he truly meant, and he respected it. Eventually Moist’s shoulders slumped a little, and Havelock took that as a sign that he was interested… or at least not entirely threatened and expecting death.

Havelock smirked. Of course he wouldn’t trust Moist for a long while, but he supposed that gave him the opportunity to keep him on a tight leash. Havelock couldn’t say that he hated that idea. Moist was handsome and young and smart, and Havelock felt powerful controlling him and would feel more powerful with someone like him by his side, obeying his orders. Yes, he truly was glad he investigated this opportunity instead of mowing the kid down in a gunfight.


	64. Drumknott/Reacher: “Humility is not one of my many virtues."

_ “Humility is not one of my many virtues,”  _ Reacher Gilt chuckled, swirling his wine as he looked at the man across from him, the man he’d worked so hard to even get a chance from, and thinking about it, he didn’t know why. Rufus Drumknott was… well, he was a plain man. But he made plain delightful, at least to Reacher. And something about this man called for him. He couldn’t understand why he found him so cute, or loveable, or dear, but he did. And even though he was plain and drab and he lived his life on paper, Rufus romanticized it all. He romanticized the common life, the little smiles, the quiet, private moments (unlike his own gaudy, volumous parties), the first morning’s coffee, the feeling of a sharpened pencil. He made the simple life look magical to Reacher, he gave it a charm.

And, in all honesty, Reacher just couldn’t see that when he was without him. Rufus could make washing the dishes charming and sweet and homely, and that was why he so desperately tried to pursue him. Because he found he craved the quietness as a reprieve from the usual chaos and loudness that surrounded him. He found that he craved a soft, intellectual man. Someone who was at his own level, but didn’t try to compete with him. He craved weaving those dear conversations with the man that romanticized living.

But he never knew how to tell that to Rufus, and he didn’t know if he ever would. Or if he would want to. If Rufus stayed by his side and find happiness, though, it wouldn’t matter anyway.


	65. Drumknott/Reacher: “I love you, but I don’t even think I know who you really are.”

Reacher looked into Rufus’ eyes with a warm smile, gently pressing another kiss to those soft lips that were entirely his. He cupped his face, gently pulling away and pressing their foreheads together. “I love you,” he said softly, nervous to say it for the first time, but hopeful and excited too.

Rufus’ eyes widened, and his stomach twisted, knowing he had to speak the truth before he leads Reacher if he wanted to be happy in this relationship.  _ “I love you _ too _ , but I don’t even think I know who you really are,” _ Rufus said softly. As he looked in Reacher’s eyes, he found a surge of emotions capture him and suddenly there were tears glistening in his eyes. He took a labored breath. “And- I don’t want you to leave,” he said, a hint of desperation peeking through. “But I want to know you better… who you truly are. I want to be able to look at the man who brings me so much happiness and confidence and love and be able to say what kind of man he is and what he loves and what he’s passionate about and what he hates. I… I want to know you better… and be closer to you.” Because he truly did love him. He loved him so much that it was painful to say that he was unsure of who exactly the man was.

Reacher was silent for a few moments, watching Rufus thoughtfully. His heart felt like lead. He’d gotten what he wanted, and he was glad that Rufus felt so strongly about him staying, but he didn’t expect such an emotional overflow for a problem he foolishly hadn’t considered. And in all honesty, he was kind of scared to begin to reveal himself. Because if Rufus didn’t know who he was, then it was possible he wouldn’t like his true self, and if that was the case Reacher didn’t know what he’d do with himself. He didn’t want to imagine a world without Rufus, and he was scared to image a world in which the man hated him. But seeing how even bringing this up brought tears to the shorter man’s eyes forced Reacher to put that aside. Rufus deserved to be happy and to smile and to feel like he understood Reacher if that was what he wanted. Actually, Rufus deserved so much more, like, oh, well, the world comes to mind.

“That makes sense,” Reacher said finally, Rufus’ eyes bringing him back to the present in the most pleasant way. “And I want you to be happy, so I’ll work on it. For now, if you’d like, ask me anything,” Reacher said softly, a soft smile tugging his face.

Rufus’ eyebrows raised, but a grin slowly spread across his cheeks. “Really?” He said, relieved that Reacher wasn’t mad and giddy that he cared so much to make Rufus happy.


	66. Moist/Havelock/Adora: “What makes you think it was an accident?”

“Apparently John Dearheart fell to his death after some sick accident,” Moist explained to Havelock, feeling uncomfortable after choosing to advocate for Adora. It was just the right thing, which was why it was so wrong. He didn’t owe her anything, and yet he wanted her to have what she deserved. “And since then it’s been a whole legal issue with Gilt and his goons having capitalized, I’d bet,” Moist elaborated.

_ “What makes you think it was an accident?” _ Havelock asked, his eyebrow arcing in that perfect position naturally. 

Moist paused, furrowing his brow. He hadn’t even thought of that. In his mind, he was just reporting the news. “Nothing, I suppose,” he said finally. “So you suspect foul play?” He clarified.

“Gilt seems to be the man who knows when to use an assassin or tip a coworker to send his boss plummetting down to meet the ground; I’ve no suspicion in my mind that it was his doing,” Havelock responded. 

Moist nodded quietly. “So what does that mean to you?” He asked.

Havelock momentarily minded his features, hating to give anything away to a man as perceptive as Moist. Part of it was the need to stay a mystery, part of it was wanting to entice Moist with a mystery, and part of it was his natural comfort level with letting others know what was on his mind. 

“It means that I have one more thing to consider,” he said cryptically. And, whlie he had considered plainly executing the man, he was not dissimilar to Moist, except for the fact that he would never take Moist’s offer. So, Havelock figured instead of killing the man outright, let it be his own decision that actively killed him in the end. 

Let Adora have her justice.


	67. Havelock/Moist: "She Used to be Mine" Songfic

_ “ _ Havelock,” Moist said softly. “Can I ask why you love me? Or how? I mean, even  _ I don’t recognize me most days. _ How can you find something there worth holding on to?” He asked. He didn’t know why he said these things. It seemed like lately, he’d been doing anything to get rid of Havelock, which was fucked up because he was to marry the man in a year… and he had agreed to that.

“Moist,” Havelock said softly. “I know you’re a man of many faces, but there are tenants of you that stand strong no matter what mask you wear. And even though you still are unsure who you are, and I can’t wait for you to live a more concrete  _ just _ as Moist von Lipwig, I can see these constants and these blips of personality that just force me to fall further for you every day.” He gently cupped Moist’s face. “And I know you’re scared. Your mind isn’t used to permanence. It’s not used to being safe. It’s not used to being one person, and it’s not used to staying with people. But I hope I can be something that makes such changes positive, not to mention Samuel as well… and Adora… and, well, you’re a man of many charms and have such acquired quite an army of people who love you and would be eager to see a man who doesn’t feel the need to wear so many masks. Again, though, I know that you’re scared, and I know that these things take time. I understand why you are worried about this, about me. But I hope you find that being able to recognize yourself is a task worth spending time on.”

Moist looked in his eyes, speechless. A task worth spending time on… Is that what he thought? Is that true? “I see,” he said, his mind still trying to catch up, but he didn’t fumble. He knew he didn’t need to fumble for footing to save face. He knew that he was at least that safe with Havelock. He hoped if he were to marry the man he could grow to feel even safer, to trust him more, to stop doing these things and acting out of nerves. And… he hoped he could make Havelock happy, and that he himself would be happy. And Havelock did seem to believe that Moist would be happier without a thousand masks. It was just so hard to drop them. They were a defense mechanism from the world. They kept him safe, they kept people trying to do things for him, they let him keep distance, they let him keep freedom. 

But being so unattached to the world around him… well, he was beginning to realize that that was a real consequence. And being so unattached to himself… it was beginning to hurt. And though it would take time and patience and a safe place and confidence, he was beginning to agree that taking down that wall would fix those cracks in his heart that were so old he’d forgotten about them. And maybe then he could live like a healthy man, like a man who had never been damaged or hurt or betrayed. And maybe he could feel like a healthy man. He wanted to feel healthy. 

“I’ll try,” Moist said finally, looking in his eyes. “It… it’s going to take time, though, and it might look like I’m not trying because it’s going to be really hard. It’s scary to take off masks, at least for me. I haven’t done it much… and I’m scared that all of these connections that I’ve built will leave,” he explained.

Havelock kissed his forehead. “Well, I can’t speak for anybody else, but I believe that you have traits that you portray in your masks quite often. People might have to adjust to you without a mask, but I don’t believe you’ll be an entirely different man anymore. And no matter what, you’ll have me,” Havelock said. “And I promise to keep you safe.”


	68. Drumknott/Reacher: “I didn’t even recognize you!”

_ “I didn’t even recognize you!” _ Rufus cried furiously, his hands curling into fists, a feat Reacher had never thought him capable of. He was so soft, normally. Rufus paced angrily, his footsteps heavy and quick and stressed. How could Reacher act like that? They didn’t deserve that.

Reacher sucked in a breath. He didn’t understand why it was such a big deal, but he reminded himself that Rufus was soft. “I had to protect you, he would have hurt you,” he insisted.

“Really? Or was it because you were jealous? Because I don’t see how he would have hurt me! And I can’t believe you’d kill someone- kill someone like  _ that _ over such- such trivial high school drama bullshit!”

“Rufus,” Reacher said, fear gripping his heart as his stomach sank. He… he might have really upset him. 

“What?” Rufus asked, his tone scathing.

Reacher wished he could retreat into the floorboards instead of being the thing Rufus hated so badly in this moment. But, he didn’t know what to say… just that he had to say  _ something _ before he lost him. 

“I’m sorry,” he decided on, hoping that was enough.

Rufus glared. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.” He left the house, slamming the door behind him.

Reacher’s gut twisted in the way that only Rufus could make it twist. And that’s why he cared about him so much… Rufus was the only one who could get him to feel that intensely.


	69. Downey/Havelock: “How can you stand living here?”

_ “How can you stand living here?” _ Havelock asked, and Downey cringed in on himself. The Vetinari understood that his money was tight, but this… this was a crummy closet of an apartment in the shades, and not in a good part of it neither. Not to mention the small space was crammed with Downey’s messy laundry and dishes that piled up high on the counters, nearly all dirty. Trash was strewn about, and Havelock supposed that between that and the laundry it did help hide and cover the cracked tile flooring, which may be safer.

“It’s what I can afford,” Downey muttered, uncomfortable. He didn’t want to impose on Ludo, and he knew that Havelock would have no inclination to be generous, though he wasn’t sure if that was from them both wanting to hide this relationship or from him genuinely being apathetic as to Downey’s face.

“I see,” Havelock muttered. “Well, cleaning up the place might help a little bit, not to mention some rugs,” he said, pushing up his sleeves.

Downey’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Helping make this place a little bit more liveable. You take care of the laundry while I clean the dishes,” he ordered.

Downey pressed his lips together to hide his shock. “Uh, you don’t have to,” he said nervously.

“Go,” Havelock insisted, and Downey obeyed, his cheeks heating up.

Maybe Havelock did care how he lived.


	70. Moist/Havelock/Samuel: “I’ll still be here."

_ “I’ll still be here,” _ Moist said, looking into Havelock’s pale blue eyes. “I’ve already danced the hemp fandango once, eh?” He tried to crack a smile. He’d been told once before that one could recognize a smile, and though Havelock now had the capability to recognize him, he hoped this would serve as just another reminder that he was here. 

Havelock gazed into those muddy brown eyes that changed into any color imaginable, with flecks of green and gold serving to masquerade their true color. He… he was scared. He was scared to chance a hanging twice. He was scared to lose the man he’d grown to love so intensely. He was scared that if he lost him the color would drain out of his world.

“I’m not worried about you going under another name,” Havelock said softly. “I’m not worried about having to hide you either… I’m worried that you’re not going to come back.” His words were precise but heavy with the weight of already grieving an alive man’s loss.

Moist took a breath. That was what he was scared about too. But he foolishly hoped that he could protect Havelock from that realization by pretending it was something else. He knew that was stupid. It was. But what else could he do to protect Havelock? What else could he do to pretend that it was okay? They both needed it to be okay. They both needed something better. And Moist wished he could just wave his magical wand that had everyone believing his lies but it didn’t work on Havelock or himself and he hated that. Because they needed that.

“I’m worried too,” Moist said finally, and tears welled up in his eyes because everything shattered and his emotions were cut up by the shards of his broken heart. He couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t change this.  He was powerless and going to be hung. Though it was the hope that he would be revived like last time, who could say that something wouldn’t go wrong? He could die. He could be dead and this beautiful, powerful, wonderful, vibrant game called life would be stripped from him. He could be dead and he could move no more, speak no more, laugh no more, evade, trick, live no more. And he was powerless to stop it, powerless to run. He wished Samuel were here so that he might try to deceive him that it would be alright, guaranteed. 

He wished Samuel were here so that Samuel might convince Moist that everything would be alright. Havelock was too weak to right now, and he was unable to fool himself.. It was such a shame that before life could be taken from him he had to dwell on it instead of living his last moments to their fullest. It was a shame that that was how humanity worked. 

Havelock looked to Moist, shakily pulling him into a hug as he protectively kissed his forehead and rubbed his back. He wanted to comfort him. He wanted to hold him. He wanted to make everything better. But he wouldn’t tie the noose. He wouldn’t drop the man. So there was nothing to do but wait and hold what he had (at least, at the moment) close to cherish it.


	71. Downey/Havelock: “If you were logical you would’ve killed me already."

“You know, you’d think that trying to kill me you were a logical man, curing the insanity of this world,” Havelock began. “But clearly that’s not the case.”

“Pardon?” Downey asked, shocked, but these words at least brought enough sting into his brain to get him to pay attention.

_ “If you were logical you would’ve killed me already,” _ Havelock elaborated.

Downey stared. That was true… There was every reason to kill him now. He knew he was going to do it; he wasn’t fighting it. But every time he thought to move to attempt his brain pleaded with him to avoid the permanence. It begged him to lay it down and to run away with Havelock and to share the love he had with the man…

But Havelock needed to die. He wouldn’t want a life of sharing love with Downey. He wanted a life of ruling, and likely a death still ruling the city. And it wasn’t fair that Downey had to kill him while he walked and talked so freely in front of him. It wasn’t fair he couldn’t pretend he was stabbing a dead man.

Well, actually, he supposed at the end of the day it wasn’t fair because he loved Havelock. 

“William,” Havelock’s voice raised slightly and it commanded William out of his thoughts. “Do it. Kill me. I tire of waiting for it,” he ordered once more.

William searched his eyes, begging for him to be lying but he only found truth. “Why do you want me to?”

“I don’t want to die ruining my kingdom. If you must kill me before such a thing happens, it is the way it must be,” he explained. “Think of it as your last service to me, or as a simple job. Whatever it is,  _ do it _ ,” Havelock ordered.

And then he was stabbed. Through the forehead with the knife, and then again through the neck, and then the forehead, and neck and Downey stopped keeping track, pure emotion surging through him as he mangled the body.

It was the only body he’d ever mangled.

And it was the first body he fell in love with.

It was hard to jump rooftops with blurry vision.


	72. Mavolio/Downey: “Forgive me if I’m misreading things, but do you want to make out?”

_ “Forgive me if I’m misreading things, but do you want to make out?” _ Mavolio asked, his heart racing as he looked into William’s brown eyes. His cheeks reddened further at the question, put off by his own boldness.

William blushed, looking into Mavolio’s eyes with a smile. “That sounds nice,” he said, a smile broadening on his lips. Though it was quirky… he liked Mavolio and the way he said that. And he liked the prospect of making out… it had been a while since-

Mavolio’s lips pressed against his, his arms snaking around his back and pulling him in, and William’s world became hazy with the preoccupation. He could think later… about how good this was.


	73. Samuel/Moist: “I feel like we’ve met before…”

_ “I feel like we’ve met before…”  _ Samuel said, furrowing his brow as he looked at the man in front of him. Moist von Lipwig was his name? And even stranger than the said name was that it was no help to his effort to procure historical information on the new Postmaster General. But still, his gut told him that he was not new.

Moist furrowed his brow. “Do you?” He asked innocently, playing dumb. “I can’t seem to recall any time,” he said innocently. “But even so, it is good to meet you again,” he gave his most winningest smile and shook Vimes’ hand with a firm grip. 

Vimes instinctively shook the hand back, his grip a bit more firm and rough around the edges. The handshake was also jerky and forced due to his harsh tugs, but it was a handshake. “Good to meet you,” Vimes said, conceding that he had, in fact, recognized the man somehow.

Moist smiled. “Why thank you,” he said, beginning to steer the conversation in different manners as his heart jumped with the thrill of joy. He’d outsmarted the commander, and even better yet, he had him around his fingers! He was really too good at this.


	74. Drumknott/Reacher: "That would be nice"

“Do you want to stay the night?” Reacher asked, looking to the secretary beside him as Rufus stared at the ceiling.

“That would be nice,” the other said softly.

Reacher gave a slight smile, reaching out and cupping his face. “Of course,” he said affectionately. He really had been growing fond of Drumknott. He was a sweet man, and he made the world idyllic.


	75. Drumknott/Reacher: "My heart hurts."

“What’s wrong?” Reacher asked, looking down to the kid who had caught his eye. He looked so clearly distressed, and something inside him begged him to try and help.

Rufus looked up at him with tearful eyes. Reacher was a grade older than him, but Rufus himself was set to skip a grade in a week due to his academic prowess.  _ “My heart hurts,” _ he explained softly, hugging his legs. “Nobody likes me,” he whimpered. 

Reacher sat down beside him quietly. “Why do you say that?”

“Because they all-they all say mean things about me and they think that-that I-I-I’m weird a-and nobody wants to p-play with me.” Tears cascaded down his cheeks as Rufus whimpered the words, the pain creeping into his heart and poisoning it with cruelty. 

“Mm,” Reacher frowned, his own heart saddened by the news. “Well… it sounds pretty normal to be upset by that to me,” He said softly. “And I don’t think you’re weird… so do you want to play some with me?” He asked, hoping against everything that the precious kid would cheer up.

Rufus looked at him with disbelief. “You… don’t you think I’m a crybaby?” He asked, wiping at his eyes and sniffling.

“No… I think you just got bad luck,” Reacher gently squeezed his shoulder, looking in his eyes before he hugged him. “So I want to turn it around and make you smile some,” he gave a soft smile himself. 

Rufus looked in his eyes too, before hugging him tighter and letting out a sob as he finally got the attention he’d craved so much from his peers. “Thank you,” he said softly, closing his eyes for a second as he squeezed him. “Thank you so much.”

Reacher smiled slightly, petting his hair. “It’s fine… let’s just dry those eyes, okay?”


	76. Margolotta/Adora Belle Dearheart: “It’s late, I should get going."

_ “It’s late, I should get going,” _ Adora said eventually, and Margolotta frowned at the thought. She didn’t want to be without the amazing woman so soon.

“Are you sure?” She asked, giving a slight smile. “You could stay over the night,” she proffered. “I mean, it’s closer to your work, isn’t it?” She asked.

“Ah,” Adora said, thinking about it. She didn’t want to impose herself, and she really didn’t expect this. “Aren’t you worried about your appearance?” She asked finally.

“I’m more worried about you getting back safely. Besides, it’s not a concern, I wouldn’t have offered if it were,” she said warmly. She really wished she would stay. After all, Adora Belle Dearheart did not deserve the discomfort of a hotel.

Adora thought about it more. “You’re sure people won’t get the wrong idea?” She asked.

“Oh no, I don’t need to explain myself, but if I chose to it was a decision on my behalf to ensure your safety for the state,” she said easily. She really hoped she did stay. Her heart was already moving too fast, but something about Adora was addicting.

“Well…” It was closer to her work, and she hadn’t checked in or brought her luggage back, so it could be an easier solution. “Alright then,” she said finally.

Margolotta was ecstatic.


	77. Havelock/Samuel: "You said you’d give up everything for it.”  “I would. Just not you.”

_ “You said you’d give up everything for it,” _ Samuel said, his eyes wide as he looked at his Patrician. The man who ought to kill him to keep the palace, the favor of his people, his pride.

 

_ “I would, _ but you’re not a thing. So I feel justified in the fact that I just can’t give up _ you,” _ Havelock replied softly, coyly. He just wanted Samuel safe and happy. “So I think we’re running,” Havelock said quietly, helping Samuel as he carried out his plan to save them both.

  
  



End file.
